


Guilty

by Experiment413



Series: Mianite: Awakening Lore [26]
Category: Mianite - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Astrology, Astronomy, Disease, Drugs, Emotional Manipulation, Evil King Andor AU, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, Manipulation, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Torture, Medicine, Medieval, Medieval Fantasy, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mianite: Awakening, Misgendering, Monsters, Musical References, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Brainwashing, Politics, Puppet Andor Verse, Realm of Mianite, Somewhat Unofficial Sequel, Steampunk, Trans Prince Andor, War, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2020-04-07 16:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19088701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Experiment413/pseuds/Experiment413
Summary: “Bye-bye my darling.”“HELP!”A followup to Mianite: Awakening. What happened to Andor and Botan.Could or could not be an AU.





	1. One Single Static Frame

**Author's Note:**

> oh god ive been working on this forever.
> 
> A followup to Mianite: Awakening! Heavily inspired by several songs, with a ton of help from Honor.  
> A playlist of songs that inspired this to come (perhaps?)
> 
> There's tons of implied awfulness here because That's How Andor Be. Sorry.
> 
> **Basically, if M:A S2 never happens: this is canon. Which, it really seems like it isn’t, so.**

The floors creaked. Quiet on the wood panelling, Andor’s gaze shifted lazily about. His head was just a buzz, and not one of a beehive’s. No, beehive hums were too comforting. This was eerie, like wasps’ nests. The floors creaked more. He couldn’t quite run his situation through his head. He sat down in the ancient halls, built thousands of years ago by the most skillful Gothic architects, and leaned his back against the wall. He let the hum and the sound of a building settling lull him asleep.

 

“I hate to ruin the moment,”

The buzz quieted to a whisper. Andor peeked an eye open, saw himself in the reflections of the stained glass. Yellow on violet.

“But you and I have work to be doing.”

 

His gaze shifted right and up. A tall, domineering creature with dark gray skin, two tall horns protruding from his forehead, black hair kept well, and constantly in a state of appearing like he left a trail of smoke. Minister’s clothes, gold embroidery on black with a high collar.

 

“We’ve worked all day already,” Andor said. “I’ve lost my energy, Botan.”

Botan chuckled. “I suppose rest would be good for you. After all, we have a job to be doing here. And I suppose it’s been quite stressful for you these past few days. Go, sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, Your Highness.”

Andor grimaced as Botan left. He waited for the smoke to fade out, and stood.

 

Andor shook violet wings free of the dust, maneuvering through the halls to return to his quarters. Exhausted, dull, non-stop work. But it would be worth it. He opened the mahogany door, and shut it slowly after entering, moving to examine himself in the old mirrors of the dresser. He tugged his cheek down some to check his eyes. Yellow on violet. He blinked. It was normal, it was normal…

Bats were starting to wear at his face. He didn’t notice them before, but it was the cost of work. Soon, he’d get used to it. Botan would help him, and they both would get what they deserved.

 

He tugged off his tie, set his crown aside, and threw off his suit jacket. Andor ran a hand through his hair. His skin was clammy, he was sick, maybe. Burrowing himself under the bedsheets, Andor dozed off, the wasp’s hum growing louder and louder till it was nothing.

 

-

 

The castle was silent. It wasn’t an uncommon thing, and surely it’d be broken up soon by a messenger with news from the front lines. Botan had pulled Andor out of the war so he could keep things in check back in Elunore.

 

Elunore, the city of night, of spiraling cobblestone streets dimly lit by the glow of flame, outskirts guarded by a thin line of knights on horseback, the ground darker than the sky, everything eerily backlit gray at night. A city of great magic and science, where the most powerful sorcerers and most brilliant stargazers called home. It was night here longer than anywhere else, though the sun would break daily for less than half the day. An eternal winter, with no snow.

 

And Andor could gaze at it. Chin in one hand, the dim yellow glow of his pupils staring out into the night from the open castle doors. The cold breeze didn’t bother him, though by the way the hairs on his arms stood on end, he could tell it must’ve, at some point. Nothing could be more peaceful than the sounds of the silent halls and the chill. In the distance there was the sea, just off the cliffs, though the noise it made was barely existent here in Castle Elunore.

 

He could doze off, like this. Eyes half lidded, world simply becoming hues of purple-black-gray, it was quiet and that’s what he  _ liked _ .

 

Botan’s heels clicked on the floor. Andor’s eyes snapped fully open, though his position didn’t change. The minister’s head was down, and he was just passing by, not speaking a word to Andor as he exited one hall, went through the throne room, and entered the next hall. Andor blinked again to his sleepier demeanor, though still perfectly awake, perfectly aware.

The sea crashed against the base of the cliff faces in the distance. The was the noise of the town as well, of people going about their rounds.

 

A messenger slid into the castle doors. Andor was focused again.

 

“Death toll,” he stated. Skip the minor details.

“Five thousand,” the messenger replied.

“Perfect,” Andor hummed. His lips curled into a smile. “And?”

“Completely disposed of, as per orders.”

“Great. We start the next siege in three days.”

“Make it two,” Botan’s voice rang from the left hall. Their faces turned to follow it, but they couldn’t see him.

“Two days,” Andor repeated, turning back to the messenger. “We start in two days.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The messenger left hurriedly.

 

Andor huffed. Botan was gone now, smoke in the wind of the left hall. Andor rose from his throne, and left, towards the right hall.

 

-

 

The upper floors of the left wing were eerie and dark, with only bits of moonlight shining through faded windows. Yet, Andor could walk with ease here. Approaching the end of the hall and a door to his right, Andor stopped to hear the same silence the castle rang throughout. He opened the door, and stepped inside.

 

Quiet shuffling ceased as Andor closed the door behind him. Something had stopped moving, and only a soft crackle of flame could be heard for a second. Andor took one step quietly onto the carpet. Something moved. A blink of yellow-orange deeper in the room, and the movement was gone.

 

This room was normally bright in the daytime, though in the night hours, it was a solemn gray-black, hardly ever lit, though light was available. It was occupant’s choice to keep the place so dark, and now, Andor was playing the world’s quietest game of chase.

 

He wandered into the kitchen. There was the sound of shuffling, claws against wood…

He looked up, and was met with the hiss of something feral, baring sharp fangs on every tooth, and the faint glow of yellow flame. Five eyes met him, narrowed into sharp glares. The singular top eye focused on the smallest movement, the other four stared directly at him.

 

“Benedict.” It wasn’t good enough to be considered a greeting. The star had crammed himself between the ceiling and the wall-mounted cupboards, never minding his stiff suit. He didn’t speak a word, and only tucked himself further in when Andor reached out for him. There was no place for him to go unless he managed to flatten himself out, which was surely a possibility, he was just opposed to the thought of being caught in the evil king’s hands.

 

Andor huffed, managing to grab him as he had nowhere else to squirm to, and tugged hard, using the counter for leverage. Benedict didn’t budge. A few more times, and Andor gave up, the star still giving him the harsh glare.

“You really got yourself stuck, hm?” Andor said, deadpan. “Well, you win, this time.”

 

He meandered back to the living room, sitting down on the couch. Knowing him, Benny wouldn’t budge from that spot till Andor was gone. God, he’d just have to proof the place more…

He tapped his fingers on the couch. Benedict was stubborn, wild, and no amount of Andor’s attempts could change that. It didn’t mean Andor was giving up, it’d been some time and there’d been progress, but it was slow. Eventually the time would come.

 

The one window had the blinds drawn tight. As much as Andor didn’t want to sit in the dark with a star cooped up in the kitchen, he wanted less to be chasing around said star in the light. Benedict had little choices, and his light preference was one of the few. Andor would let him keep it.

It was easier to know where Benedict was, and that’s why it was better this way. It wasn’t often Benny won anyway, it was never often.

 

And Andor could still lure him out. It was tough, he couldn’t fake leaving, and Benedict was virtually immune to his mind games.

All but one.

 

Andor snapped his fingers, and it was like the ventilation turned on. His abilities were little, but enough to make a difference. A cold breeze blew gently through the room, and Andor could hear Benny shift in discomfort. Eventually, that shifting turned into a slow slide against wood, which Andor could barely hear. Benny was going to have a hard time if he didn’t make a move and left his position, and by the sounds of him dragging his claws against the cupboards, he was hesitating.

Minutes passed, and Andor could only hear the creaks, till the noise stopped. A second after, the silence was so deafening that the king went to check it out on his own, only to find that Benny had pushed through, passing out in the crevice from the cold. Andor growled, calling the breeze off. It was a waste, he wasn’t fun if he was unconscious. He’d just have to leave him, he supposed Benny’s ferality was the karma for taking in an actual alien as a pet, but he figured that most likely it was just natural hostility- predators were like that, and Andor was basically keeping a caged tiger around. Albeit, a humanoid tiger constantly on fire.

 

Benedict had won for now, and Andor would see about rigging the game in his favor again.

 

-

 

Andor spent the rest of the night with nothing but the background hum of his own mind. Botan didn’t see it fit to bother him like this, not even with news of the wars and conquests or at-home word. He dazed mindlessly into the open night air, sitting just behind the open doors of the throne room. Guards knew not to bother him in this state, everyone knew better. Only his minister could get away with it, and even then he wouldn’t bother.

 

Andor seemed to acknowledge Botan’s presence, albeit a vague one, and surfaced partially from his mind. “How goes work?”

“Not any different than any other day,” he responded, gliding past.

Andor huffed. He rested his elbow on one leg, tilting his head as he put it in his hand, and eyeing the courtyard from afar.

“Who’s the person yelling?”

“Hm?”

“There’s a person in the courtyard being rather loud, is that…”

Botan strode over to look. “A member of the court, yes.”

“Ah,” Andor said, as if that helped answer the original question at all.

“A strangeling, that one, I wouldn’t pay her any mind. God knows what she goes on about.”

Everyone seemed to be avoiding her. Andor nodded. “Some people…” he disapprovingly scoffed.

“Well, there’s always one.” Botan began to leave again, down the hall.

“Always one,” Andor echoed.

 

Back in his room, he felt his head ring. It was like an unceasing bell, and if he hadn’t seen every doctor in the kingdom by this time, then he didn’t know what to do. The pains of it had passed him a tinnitus diagnosis, but even keeping the castle quiet wouldn’t make it any better. The migranes were hell.

Though, after a while, he was used to the pounding in the back of his skull, like every throb of his heart was a whack with a blunt object. Up and out, his brain said, it’s always up and out. He echoed it back to himself.

He wasn’t able to sleep tonight. He rolled back over in the bed, thumbing at the trinket he’d bought from a store of oddities a few weeks ago. “I need to see a doctor,” he mused for probably the hundredth time. He knew he wasn’t going to get anything new out of it, and either way, Botan was a trained doctor. He was in fine health, everyone told him, but he swore that this didn’t feel like it should be normal. Botan new when his head fluttered like that, and was quick to console him, if he was around. Andor thumped his hand lazily around the bed, looking for a raggedy plush toy he had around somewhere in the sheets. He’d tried to keep it a secret, even from Botan, who he trusted the most, but eventually he found out. Thankfully, he’d laughed it off, saying everyone needed one, frankly. He found the little thing, squeezing it in one hand lightly to calm himself down. He’d read a book, but he needed to rest.

 

Whatever ailed him, there was a remedy for it. He let go of the trinket in his other arm, opening his bedside drawer and digging for something. He pulled a small bottle out of it, popping one of the pills inside of it in his mouth before closing it and placing it back in. Andor sighed, rolling over again, and was out like a light.


	2. Some See a Pen (I See a Harpoon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks much to my Creative Writing class for making this one possible. Really lost motivation for this guy till it had a due date.
> 
> Sorry this one was later that anticipated.

Andor had it weird. He wanted to write, there was the urge, but once he was sitting down in front of the paper nothing would come out. He couldn’t think of anything, he just stared at old, blank paper, turning brown with age. He sat for 30 minutes, twirling his pen between his fingers before he thumped his head against the desk. Just like that, Botan opened the door.

“Staying cooped up writing all day isn’t too good for you, do you understand?” he asked. 

Andor twiddled his pen. “But I have the urge to do it.”

“Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s healthy,” Botan continued, looping around to him with his hands behind his back. “Besides, you haven’t been able to complete even a poem. I don’t see the point in trying.”

Botan was right. There were papers crumbled and thrown loosely into the drawers of the desk, poking out at strange angles. None of them had more than three sentences written. Andor couldn’t scratch the itch.

Botan’s sigh weighed heavy on the soul; it was as overbearing as the man himself. “Get up, stretch, perhaps get back to plans. Maybe you can write later.”

Andor never could.

 

\--

 

He did listen to Botan, though, and meandered around the castle, up spiraling towers, down the long halls with old, dark stained glass. He eyed Benedict’s room as he passed it, but no, no, not today. The pen was still in his hands. He tapped it against the palm of his hand in discontent.

Most of the castle was devoid of life. It was normally ever just him and the unsettlingly vague presence of Botan here. Everyone else was outside or tucked away into the basement floors or individual rooms, to which, if they could, they’d eventually scuttle out of and into another like beetles running from birds. Some were here long enough- were  _ trusted  _ enough- to grow used to the eerie feel of Castle Elunore, and could hang about in the large halls for a brief chat before scurrying off to work. Midway down the lower left wing, this is what Andor found. Two servants discussed something, facing away from the main hall and towards the windows, just at the edge of a line of countless rooms.

“It’s stress, I tell you,” the smaller one says. “Makes me feel sick, like it’s too warm.”

“You know,” starts the taller, “going outside has always helped me with that. Get away from work, some. Gives you fresh air.”

The smaller nodded. “I’ve heard it helps, I’ll see if I have the time. Maybe head down to the sea.”

Andor was already past them. As he walked the conversation faded out into echoes on the grand halls, then silence.

Outside, maybe. If medicine couldn’t ease him, maybe something he hadn’t tried could. So, that was where he made his way. Like Botan said, staying cooped up couldn’t be healthy, and maybe it applied to the castle as a whole too.

\--

The breeze was mild in the square, just outside Castle Elunore’s doors. It was a wide, circular space consisting of gray-purple cobblestones, surrounded on each side by the castle to its north, noble manors to its east and west, and towering observatories to its south, with winding paths to the markets and ocean and the rest of the city.

To Andor, it was surreal. No one seemed to blink at him, even with his golden crown and the evident fact that he was their ruler. For a second, maybe, he felt both invincible and vulnerable at the same time. The buildings cast long shadows, fuzzy and faint by moonlight, to the north. Noble homes made of deep oak and mahogany woods, with ornate patterning, almost like a sculpture, contrasted against the cylindrical and abstract observatories of Elunore’s astronomers. One had an ornately gold clockwork mechanism, spinning in a complicated movement, with a sphere in its center, clock arms ticking away, and rotating rings, obviously commissioned from a highly regarded clockworker and goldsmith. In his unknown amazement came the attack.

“Your Majesty!”

He visibly startled, feeling as if he had jumped out of his suit. Running up to him was a pale woman with dark gray-purple eyes, and a darker circlet around her head that curved at the ends like horns. Her hair was a light, dusty purple, and her dress an even lighter shade of that, embroidered in the style Elunore’s regal outfits were known to show.

It was the woman out in the courtyard yelling from the night before.

“Lady Io,” the words came out of Andor like water spilling from his mouth. He didn’t  _ know _ every member of his court, but something subconsciously made him remember them, and their names, even if they were blurs of memory and ceaseless discussion when it came to rulings.

Lady Io curtseyed. He definitely felt a strange aura about her.

“It’s nice to see you, out and about. Do you go for walks often?” she asked.

“No,” Andor said with a shake of his head. “Not terribly often. Do you?”

“I’m out here almost all night,” Io chimed. “It’s really lovely, in the day, too. You should see the way the light catches the observatory glass. It’s prismatic, you know.”

“I didn’t.”

“It has rainbow quartz in it, I hear,” Io rattled on. “But that’s just a rumor. I’d ask an astronomer if they came out often, but they do love their studies.”

“Huh,” Andor said. He wasn’t completely listening or retaining the information. To him, Io just spun words and said whatever she was thinking. A lot of it he didn’t even register, or made sense of. Just words.

Io laughed. “Your Majesty, what’s with that face? Come on, I’ll show you about, if you don’t mind?” She extended a hand.

Andor blinked. He was conflicted, hesitating. He could see why Botan had called her the strangeling. But, he almost automatically took her hand. “I don’t mind.”


	3. I Bet She's My Common Sene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we out here babey
> 
> New official playlist is out, three voices come from the gramophone: https://playmoss.com/en/controlcoreangel/playlist/three-voices-come-from-the-gramophone
> 
> Beta’d by Crispii

Lady Io led the young king down rows and rows of buildings, magnificent in their structure. They towered over every man on the street, hewn quartz and gold and igneous rock. Glass-top observatories peppered the sides of the compact brick roads, glittering in the faint light. He had never seen a place with this much splendor beyond the castle, just picturing the city beyond its walls as a drab, dark place. But no, the structures here practically created a light of their own, piercing the black sky with color. One observatory with a crystalline structure caught his attention, like a gem cutting into the sky. This was the central place of all knowledge the realm held of the cosmos, Elunore’s hands reaching out to brush the stars with its fingertips.

Andor had never been a person for the technological. He was more adjusted to magic users, to Botan’s spells. He thought he could’ve been one himself, but the powers never manifested. He spied himself of the smooth surface of a polished stone tower. Yellow on violet.

Io was chattering on about _ something _ . He barely even noticed her loosen her grip on his hand. “Look,” she said, pointing up. “That’s Lyka, the southernmost star.”

Andor followed her gaze. “They say if you follow her,” continued Io. “That she’ll show you everything important about the realm. Also, that if you require protection, she will offer it.” Andor held back a scoff.

Elunore was a large city, but only so large. The observatories gave way to smaller business, gave way to a very thin line of residential only about 2 blocks deep, gave way to large, infertile fields. They’d walked for hours. Io was saying something about the grass now, how it didn’t grow anywhere else but here. Andor himself never knew much of Elunore, it wasn’t important, but he did know its geography. The expanse in front of him was the edge of his kingdom, a peninsula with a small island chain at its end, and a slight offshoot to the southeast. Like a bamboo shoot, he thought, but he didn’t really know where that thought came from.

“... and it’s strange, don’t you think? So little sun that they had to make do, so they can’t survive up north.” Io was still talking, and Andor had spaced out. Great. “I’m no astronomer, but I think, from the heavens, that Elunore would just be a little gem of purple on the corner of the realm. Like amethyst.”

He nodded. He wasn’t fully sure of what she was talking about, but what could he say? He couldn’t think of a response.

“I think I’ll go home now,” he instead said. “Thank you for showing me around.”

Io beamed. “I’d hate for you to go so soon, there’s so much to see, but I suppose you are a busy man. I’ll see you sometime in the future, my friend.”

* * *

As Andor crossed along the same path he had just taken with Lady Io, he was deep in thought. Friend? He hadn’t heard that word… ever, if he recalled correctly, at least, it was never directed to him. He couldn’t fathom being someone’s _ friend _ , it was frivolous, ridiculous. The residents and castle servants would frequently use the word, but he never truly understood it. Botan said there would be no reason to, but surely this had to be reason enough.

He gazed up to the tops of the observatories. What was he missing? He didn’t think it was anything. Everything was handed to him practically on a silver platter. Even Botan believed him to be the peak of Elunore’s rulers, that this was destiny.

A friend… did Io really think of him in such a way? He had to get to the bottom of this, a curiosity he had never experienced growing in his stomach. Andor found a small bookstore and slipped inside.

The doorbell chimed as he entered. The bookkeeper, he read they were called, looked up from their desk, expecting another customer. They were bewildered to, in actuality, see the king. “Your Majesty!”

They stood up and bowed, swiftly but with grace. They were an older person, perhaps in their mid-40s, hair graying. Andor approached the desk, where the keeper remained upright.

“Can you point me in the direction of your dictionaries, please?” Andor asked.

“Of course!” responded the keeper, and showed him a corner in the shop labelled _ Reference _ .

Andor approached it gingerly, as if a monster could come out and snatch him at any moment. He pulled one of the dictionaries, flipping over to words filed under F.

_ “ _ **_friend_ ** _. noun. [Old Elunorian: amica] _

 

  * _a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations_


  * a person who acts as a supporter of a cause, organization, or country by giving financial or other help


  * a person who is not an enemy or who is on the same side


  * a familiar or helpful thing”



 

This took Andor aback some. Mutual affection was probably a very rough thing, admittedly he had no clue what to even think of Io. She was just weird in his mind, and whatever it was he couldn’t pinpoint it. She wasn’t familiar, in the same sense. Yes, he’d known her for some time, at least visually seen her and heard her speak, but there wasn’t a moment where he had conversed with her, not in the past, in the very least. Helpful, maybe, however she certainly was not an enemy. Still, could he really be sure about that? He nervously bounced a leg, tapping his foot against the wooden store floor.

He’d come to terms with it somehow, but it really made him uneasy. He decided that there was no use in reading something that made him feel quite as uncomfortable, so he closed the book and put it back in its place on the shelf. Briskly, he left, the door shutting behind him before the bookkeeper had time to react. Andor was gone like mist on the wind, headed to the castle.

* * *

Botan reappirated from a swirl of smoke, landing on his feet without a second thought. He watched the king step down the halls in clear frustration. The minister tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, following after Andor in another drift. He reappeared just behind his stride.

“Your mind is troubled,” he observed.

“Of course it is.” Andor huffed, his gaze shifted towards the ground.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

The king shook his head. “It’ll blow over. It isn’t important.”

“It clearly is,” Botan commented. “Why else would you be so upset?”

“And I’m not upset,” Andor retorted. Botan’s eyebrows raised again. “I’m… well, I don’t know.”

The king stuffed his hands into his coat pockets, his feathers ruffled. Botan drifted around to his front.

“Are you positive it will just ‘blow over’?” he asked. Andor avoided his gaze, looking off to the floor. “Why not tell me what’s wrong either way?”

Andor sighed. He really would have to tell him, and he wasn’t sure what to think of that. A piece of him felt like this was not a good idea, but he could always trust Botan, right? He’d known this man for most of his existence, after all. Why couldn’t he?

“I went out tonight,” he started. “Met with a noble to discuss the goings-on with. After all was said and done, they referred to me as a ‘friend’. It… simply doesn’t sit right with me.”

Botan scoffed with a smirk. “Dear boy,” said the minister. “You are a busy man. Surely they understand you have no time for frivolous things such as friendships.”

Andor couldn’t quite figure out why he didn’t, he wasn’t very busy at all, in fact. There was never much to do, he spent most of his time half-asleep on the throne. He blinked, and nothing changed. 

Botan gently pat him on the shoulder, but Andor’s gaze was focused off into the distance.

He murmured into the boy’s shoulder, voice sickly sweet, “Have some tea and get some rest. I’m sure it’ll stop bothering you afterwards.”

Andor nodded, and left.


End file.
